


As a Slinky

by CatastropheCat



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Blow Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Injuries, Rhys as Jack's PA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7901590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatastropheCat/pseuds/CatastropheCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Handsome Jack is straighter than your average guy... So why does he keep checking out his (male) PA's ass?</p><p>Also known as "Jack has a sexuality crisis."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm new to the fandom and I saw the idea floating around "What if Jack was sure he was straight, but then Rhys came along?" This is my take on that.
> 
> Not really beta'd, but if you'd like to volunteer for that job, I wouldn't say no!

Handsome Jack was 97% straight.

He figured the average man was around 90% straight, so in his mind, he found men even less attractive than most dudes. Which only proved his masculinity, right? Not that he had anything to prove. He was Handsome goddamn Jack. Lesser beings shit themselves at the sight of him - he was that friggin’ awesome. And manly. And straight.

Jack had always been the type of guy who got a little hard for badasses and he tended to date, or at least fuck around with, women who could at least go toe-to-toe with him in hand-to-hand combat, if not outright stomp him into the ground. Which certainly made things in the bedroom… Well, he’d say interesting, but that would be an understatement. A better phrase would be that it made things really fucking hot. Like, waking up the next morning with scratches down your back and hickeys littering your neck hot.

Other than badass and female, though, Jack didn’t really have a type. Blonde, brunette, dark skin, light skin, freckles, moles, big tits, small tits… Potato, potahto.

Which was what made his attraction Rhys so goddamn… Inexplicable.

Because, one, Rhys was most definitely male. Not, like, stereotypically masculine or anything - Hell, his nerdy little buddy Vaughn was more likely to get an award for masculinity than Rhys was - but he was definitely a dude. All hard lines and square jaw and... Man.

Reason number two that Jack shouldn’t be attracted to Rhys was that he was... Ridiculously less than badass. He was scared of heights, for one. Jack could, barely, accept rational fears, like maybe if someone was scared of stalkers or vault monsters. Yeah, that sort of made sense. But heights? It was almost as stupid as being afraid of enclosed spaces or needles. He’d once had a hover office built on Elpis with a penthouse whose walls were made entirely of glass. When he’d visited, the head scientist he’d been meeting with had taken one look at the ground below them and puked all over Jack, the floor, and the friggin’ window. That little incident hadn’t really made Jack find acrophobia endearing, and he’d enjoyed dropping that scientist off the highest point he could find. The screams he’d made on the way down? Fucking priceless.

And, while Rhys seemed like he could more than hold his own in a finger gun fight, that didn’t mean shit to Jack. If he had to guess, he'd say that the kid had no idea how to even turn off the safety on a real gun, much less how to actually win in a fire fight.

So Jack’s two criteria for attraction? Not even close to met. Sure, Rhys was a competent PA, but you had to be a damn sight more than that for Handsome Jack to look twice at you.

So why was he looking twice?

Why was he staring at Rhys’s ass when the man walked by? Why was he catching himself daydreaming about bending the kid over his desk? Why did he want to know what Rhys’s lips tasted like so freakin’ much?

The last fucking straw was the day Rhys came in with hickeys on his neck. Maybe Jack could have stood it if the marks were lower down, just visible under the collar of his shirt, but no. These were huge, livid suck marks that stood out starkly against the man’s pale skin. There was even one in the center of Rhys’s tattoo, where Jack had imagined putting his own mouth one too many times.

For a second, he saw red. Who the  _fuck_ had touched his PA? Was it that little bitch friend of his? What was her name - Yvonne? No, Yvette. She seemed like the kind to leave marks everywhere, ride his Rhysie like a goddamned cowgirl. Or, fuck, maybe it was that freakishly muscular nerd. He didn’t seem like he’d be possessive or anything, but who knew? You wouldn’t expect him to have six pack either. Whoever it was, Jack was going to rip out their fucking throat with his _teeth_.

He took a few deep breaths, willing himself to calm down. Okay. So Rhysie had had a little fun last night. Was that any of his business? No. The kid was just his personal assistant, and not _that_ kind of personal. Besides, Jack was straight. It didn’t matter to him who Rhys got off with; he wasn’t _jealous_.

When he opened his eyes, he found his PA looking at him with an odd expression. “Uh, Jack? You okay? I thought we were aiming for not killing anyone before lunch time today.”

Jack gathered himself, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, well, how’s that worked out in the past, cupcake?”

“Fairly well, if you have your coffee,” Rhys told him, arching an eyebrow and handing over a paper cup with the Hyperion logo stamped onto it. Jack gave it a suspicious sniff before shrugging and taking a sip. Rhys occasionally enjoyed making the baristas in the Hub of Heroism mix weird flavors together. Jack usually wasn’t super picky, as long as there was caffeine in it, but, once, when his PA had tried to feed him a citrus-mint concoction that tasted more like skag shit than coffee, Jack had been so disgusted that he’d poured the cup’s contents over Rhys’s head as soon as the liquid had cooled to lukewarm. In hindsight, that had been a bad idea given the fact that, until the shirt had dried, Jack hadn’t been able to get any work done, too distracted by the way the material clung to Rhys’s torso.

Today, though, the latte was (He guessed) vanilla and drakefuit, and actually tasted pretty damn good. He looked down at it in approval before taking another sip.

Rhys grinned. “See? You’re looking less murderous already. So what happened?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Why do you assume something happened?”

The PA rolled his eyes. “Right. I walk in and you look like you’re about to grab and choke the nearest living thing you can find, but nothing happened.”

Jack glowered. Rhys was far too perceptive for his own damn good. He supposed that that was what happened when someone worked for you for the better part of a year; they fucking got to _know_ you.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, pumpkin,” Jack said, effectively deflecting the question and turning to walk back to his desk. “So, what happened to your neck? Get in a fight with a vampire?” He glanced around just in time to see Rhys slap his flesh hand to his throat and turn pink with embarrassment. Jack smirked.

“Oh god,” Rhys muttered, looking at his shoes. Jack grinned and sat down, propping his feet up on his desk. “I… Forgot about those.”

Jack hummed, taking another sip of his coffee. “Yeah? Not very professional of you, kiddo, showing up to work with hickeys.”

Rhys squeezed his eyes shut, his face turning a lovely shade of fuchsia. “Yeah… Yes. I know. I’m sorry. I thought about asking Yvette if I could borrow her concealer, but the skin tone wouldn’t match or anything, so… I figured it was better showing up to work with hickeys than, like, big brown splotches all over my neck.” He opened his eyes, looking at Jack through his lashes as if he was prepared to shut them again at a moment’s notice.

“Mm, probably right,” Jack said, grabbing a pen and beginning to tap it lazily on his thigh, “I might have thought you had a skin condition and airlocked you before it could spread to me.” That got a tiny smile out of Rhys, if a nervous one. They both knew that the younger man was far too valuable to Jack to just toss out the airlock. “Still, though, you didn’t answer my question.” Rhys’s brow furrowed a bit in confusion, and Jack clarified. “About what happened to your neck.”

Rhys’s blush, which had been fading, returned in full force. “Oh… Uh. Isn’t it obvious?” When Jack just gave him a blank look, the younger man continued hurriedly. “Right, sorry. Stupid question. So, uh, I went clubbing last night with Vaughn and Yvette? I had a few drinks, danced some… Um. Then I went home with someone.”

Jack tapped his pen a little harder against his thigh, trying to distract himself from the rage boiling up in his chest. So he was right. Then again, it wasn’t like those marks were put there by accident or anything - Of course he was right. “Went home and did what?” He tried to keep his voice calm, impassive. If nothing else, he could use this opportunity to make Rhys squirm.

The younger man looked incredulous for a moment, like he couldn’t believe Jack was making him say it. Well tough luck. “I… I had sex with him,” Rhys said slowly, carefully, “And he, uh, sucked on my neck while he was… You know.”

“No, I don’t know.” Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Honestly, you’d think Rhys would pick up on the rules of the game faster than this.

“While he was fucking me,” Rhys mumbled, closing his eyes once more as if he could block out what was happening. His face was bright red.

Jack kept his expression bored, as if that pretty little blush wasn’t doing _things_ to him. “So, how was it?” he asked conversationally, suppressing a smirk as Rhys’s eyes flew open.

“ _Really_ , Jack?” the younger man asked, “You- You’re asking me how it fucking _was?_ ”

Jack raised a brow and took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, I am. Problem?” He let an edge of danger creep into his tone.

Rhys hesitated for a fraction, his eyes narrowed. Ooh, pumpkin looked pissed. Yeah, Jack was going to pay for this later. Not in any direct way, but in the Rhys way. The scheduling-one-meeting-after-the-next-without-a-break-for-lunch way. Or maybe, god forbid, his PA would actually make him do his paperwork. Still, though, when Rhys opened his mouth and answered in sweet, sweet submission to Jack’s whims, it was fucking worth it.

“It was pretty decent. It’s been awhile, so it was nice to, uh, release the tension. My ass is kinda sore though. Seven out of ten?”

That got a laugh out of Jack. Unfortunately, however, Rhys had seemed to realize that acting like this wasn’t embarrassing the shit out him was the quickest way to get Jack to stop doing it. How boring.

“Alright, cupcake, I’ve got work to do.” He could see Rhys’s shoulders slump with relief. “Get me that hard copy of that top secret R&D project, would ya?”

“Which one?” Rhys asked, already moving to the safe in the wall. One of the many safes, actually. Jack didn’t know how Rhys kept track of which held which secret documents, honestly.

“The stupid one that I never should have fucking funded,” Jack said, rolling his eyes when Rhys turned to raise an eyebrow at him. “With the- you know, where they’re trying to make shields that blow up when you die?”

“Yeah, not quite sure why you gave the go-ahead on that,” the younger man chuckled, scanning his thumb. The safe swung open and he rifled around in it until he came up with the ECHOtablet that held the right information.

“Sounded like a good idea at the time…” Jack mumbled, grimacing. He look the tablet from Rhys and got to work.

oOo

The rest of the day passed normally. Well, on the surface, anyways. Whenever Jack caught a glimpse of the bruises that adorned Rhys’s neck, however, he felt a swell of anger in his chest. Part of him just wanted to rip the man’s shirt off to find out how far down the marks went. The other part, however, was happy not knowing how thoroughly Rhys’s little fuck buddy had _claimed_ him.

Then there was the matter of what the younger man had _said._ The words “While he was fucking me” bounced around in Jack’s head, distracting him from every goddamn meeting he went to. If Rhys was surprised at the lack of caustic comments that usually spewed out of Jack’s mouth, he didn’t show it. It was probably a nice break for him, the older man thought bitterly, not having to deal with presenters wetting themselves whenever Jack made a barbed comment.

The words still hadn’t stopped repeating themselves by the time he had gotten home to his penthouse suite, ordered chinese takeout, and eaten it. It was like a mantra, always in the background, and whenever Jack’s thoughts slipped into silence, there it was. Finally, man heaved a sigh and moved to the bathroom, turning on the enormous tub and waiting for it to fill while he got undressed. He’d just have a nice soak and meditate on why that phrase just fucking _got_ to him.

By the time the tub had filled and Jack had dropped one of those weird, fizzy bath bombs in it, the bathroom mirrors were clouded with steam. The water practically burned when he got in, but honestly it just melted the tension off of Jack’s bones. He sighed and sat down, leaning back against the edge of the tub and stretching out his legs. They didn’t even reach the other side of the bath - it was friggin’ fantastic.

_While he was fucking me._

Dammit.

Jack closed his eyes, resting his head back against the edge of the tub as the smell of sandalwood and rose enveloped him. He tried to relax, to let the scent lull him into a meditative state, but no matter how hard he tried to banish it, the image of Rhys's bruised neck kept springing up behind his eyelids.

Jesus... Why did that bother him so much? It wasn't like he'd expected the kid to be celibate while he was Jack's PA or anything. Sure, it was a hard job and the kid was constantly on his toes, rushing from one task to the next, but it wasn't like he didn't have any free time. And if he wanted to use that free time to fuck someone? It was none of Jack's business.

But he wanted it to be.

He wanted a claim on Rhys. It was a burning desire low in his stomach, something that had just been embers before, but seeing his PA's neck littered with hickeys had stoked it into a roaring flame.

Jack was straight. He was. He'd never had even a passing interest in being with a man before, but the more he thought about Rhys's neck, the more he wanted to be the one marking it.

First, he'd just press light kisses along the other man's jaw, down his throat, beneath his ear... After that, he'd start with a nibble, just a hint of teeth grazing along Rhys's tattoo. His PA would gasp, would grab ahold of Jack's hair, and Jack would reward the noise with a bite. Nothing hard, not yet. Just enough to get Rhys to squirm a little. Then he’d lave his tongue over the spot he’d sunk his teeth into, soothing the other man’s flesh before taking it into his mouth and _sucking_.

Jack knew how to give a good hickey. He revelled in marking up his partners, laying claim to their bodies with his mouth. Sure, in the heat of the moment he’d also scrape his nails down a woman’s back or hold her hips so hard he left bruises, but hickeys were better. He loved making a chick gasp and moan as he left her body littered with love bites.

He wondered if he’d get the same reactions out of Rhys. If sucking a mark on the other man’s inner thigh would make him him whimper, or if he’d arch off the bed when Jack flicked his nipple with his tongue. God, he hoped so. He wanted Rhys writhing, his legs splayed open, his eyes shut tight against the overwhelming pleasure, his dick hard against his stomach.

Jack groaned and reached beneath the water to give his erection a slow stroke. Then he realized what he was doing and his eyes snapped open. No. No, no, no. No. He had not just been about to masturbate to the thought of another man. That… Made no sense. He was Handsome goddamn Jack! He was possibly the straightest guy in the galaxy. A runner up, for sure.

But when he thought of Rhy, naked and aroused and very much _male_ , his dick gave twitch of interest.

Jack took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down from his agitated state. The scents of the bath bomb filled his nose, but they weren’t nearly relaxing enough to curb either his arousal or his anxiety.

With an annoyed sigh, Jack rubbed a hand over his mask. He rarely took it off, even at home. There were too many windows in his goddamn penthouse, and as much as he loved looking at the stars, he hated the way his reflection stared back at him from the glass, scar marring its features, a tangible reminder of his mistakes.

Fuck. Here he was, a grown man, and he was sitting in the bath with an erection like an embarrassed 12 year old, too afraid of going blind to touch himself. Jack forced himself to reach under the water and wrap a hand around his dick, closing his eyes as he gave it a slow stroke. Yeah… Shit, that was it.

For a few minutes, he just focused on the friction, but it soon became clear that that wasn’t going to be enough. In his younger years, he’d been able to jerk one out without thinking of anything, the mess of hormones in his brain pushing him over the edge just as much as the feeling, but now that he was older, he actually had to fantasize to get off. Not that that was a bad thing - hell, it made his orgasms better. He could build up scenario in his mind until he was totally immersed in it and coming so hard he saw proverbial stars.

So Jack let his mind wander. Sometimes he started out with a specific person in mind, but today he just went with nebulous images. Planes of smooth skin, stretch-marked thighs, the supple curve of a breast… Yes. God, yes. Maybe a tattoo? Blue lines, like the ones he’d seen peeking out of Rhys’s dress shirt when he’d unbuttoned it the time the climate controls malfunctioned and Jack’s office had gotten too warm to be comfortable. He wondered how far those lines went, if they extended down Rhys’s chest, if they swirled around his arm… Did he have tattoos anywhere else? Jack had once met a girl with a simple, elegant design inked on her inner thigh. What if Rhys had something like that, something visible for Jack to focus his attention on. Something to bite and suck before moving his mouth upwards....

Shit. He was doing it again. Imagining Rhys instead of some gorgeous woman. And for some reason, that was really doing it for him, as was evident by the way his dick leaked a pearl of precome into the water.

Maybe… Maybe he just needed to get it out of his system? If he jerked off to the thought of Rhys once, the novelty would wear off and he could stop staring at his PA’s ass every time he thought he could get away with it. That made sense, right?

Jack began to touch himself again, rolling his hips up into his hand with each stroke. The warm water was delicious against his cock, but he imagined Rhys’s mouth would be even better - wet with saliva and hot as sin. He’d seen the way Rhysie chewed on the end of his tablet pen sometimes, and, Jesus, would that little oral fixation come in handy. Rhys wouldn’t stop running his tongue over Jack, swirling it around the head, licking up the underside, tasting the precome that dripped from his slit… Jack wondered if he would moan around the dick in his mouth, take him deeper just to choke on it and then come back eagerly for more once he’d recovered. Lord, yes.

Would Rhys get off on it, he wondered? Would he groan and whimper around Jack’s cock because pleasing his boss got him all hot and bothered? Would he stroke himself off while looking up at Jack through his eyelashes? Fuck, Jack hoped so; just the thought was making him moan and fuck his fist even harder.

Would Rhys swallow? Or would he pull away so that his face got covered in Jack’s release, sticky white decorating his pale skin and getting stuck in his eyelashes? If it was the latter, would he lick come off of the corner of his mouth just to watch the way Jack’s spent dick twitched in a valiant effort to get hard again so he could have another go inside of his PA?

Jack wanted to know. He wanted desperately to catalog the sounds Rhys made, to hold him down, to kiss him senseless and suck bruises into his skin. It wasn’t a passing fancy, just a novelty to be experienced and cast aside; it was a living, breathing thing curled around his abdomen and _squeezing_.

Jack came with Rhys’s name on his lips, his hips arching up and his entire body going taut as his orgasm rippled through him. It was the best one he’d had in fuck knew how long, and he’d had it because of Rhys.

Numbly, Jack pulled the bath’s plug, working mostly out of habit. He stepped out of the tub, watching for a moment as the water, murky and speckled with white, swirled down the drain. He walked over to the deluxe shower on the other side of the room, almost slipping on the tile in his daze. He turned on the spray, which warmed almost immediately, and went about washing himself on autopilot.

God, he was too old to be having a sexuality crisis. Shouldn’t this have happened when he was 15, hopped up on hormones? Jack was tempted to viciously kick the shower wall, but he knew he’d only end up bruising the shit out of his foot. He settled for grabbing hold of his earlobe and twisting it. The pain was, briefly, a sharp relief, a grounding point, but it quickly faded and Jack was left adrift once more.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could do this. He was Handsome Jack, for Christ’s sake. Not to toot his own horn or anything, but he was probably the most powerful man in the solar system. He could handle a little crush. Or… Whatever this was.

One thing was for sure, though. Rhys was his, and he was going to make that crystal fucking clear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jack starts acting oddly and Rhys can't stop thinking about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me so long to update this! I'm such a slow writer and school and work have kept me busy. I hope you enjoy this new chapter!
> 
> Thank you all so much for your comments last time. Once again, they fuel my spirit and I adore hearing what you guys think. If you have anything to say at all, please say it! 
> 
> PS - I still need a beta. If you want the job, just drop a comment on here and we can get int touch!

Jack was acting… different.

It wasn’t really obvious at first. Just subtle changes that had started ever since the day Rhys had come to work covered in hickeys. That… That had been uncomfortable, to say the least, but Jack loved to make his PA squirm, so honestly Rhys had half expected some merciless teasing. But the whole Spanish Inquisition thing, where the older man had made Rhys actually tell him explicitly what had happened? That had been… Well, besides being a special level of embarrassment that Rhys hadn’t been aware of existing, it had been… Weird. In addition, Rhys swore he’d seen anger flash in Jack’s gaze more than once throughout the day, little flickers that weren’t directed at him so much as the marks visible above the collar of his shirt.

Which was also weird.

Rhys had never thought of Jack as a stickler for the whole professional appearance thing. Hell, sometimes the man came into work in just a ratty old sweater and sweatpants, at least when he didn’t have any meetings to go to. Rhys, however, made an effort to come to work every day looking professional, with sleek trousers, a suit jacket, and a button up. There were no casual Fridays when you were Handsome Jack’s PA. However, he didn’t think _Jack_ actually cared about that. The board members? Sure. But he was pretty certain that as long as he did his job, his boss wouldn’t care if he came to work in footie pajamas.

As if the events of that day weren’t enough, however, Jack had taken up a few new odd habits. Like standing really close to Rhys in the elevator, even when they had it all to themselves. It wasn’t an uncomfortable close - more of a polite, shoulder-to-shoulder close. The kind of close that friends had no problem with. But Jack was his boss and before what Rhys was mentally referring to as the Hickey Incident, they’d just sort of gravitated slightly towards the opposite sides of the elevator, which resulted in a gap of a foot or so between them.

Lately, though, Jack had taken to getting close to Rhys as often as possible, it seemed. Instead of asking his PA to forward him and email or send a file, he’d get up from his desk and walk behind Rhys, leaning over his shoulder to read whatever was on screen. Occasionally, he’d put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder as he did so, absently rubbing small circles there. And, while Rhys had to admit that Jack's touch was kind of soothing, it was also, paradoxically, unnerving.

His boss had rarely touched him before the Hickey Incident. Hell, Jack rarely touched anyone unless he was being violent, so Rhys kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was certain that one day he'd flinch in surprise and instead of chuckling, Jack was would wrap his hands around Rhys's throat and that would be the end of it all.

The young man sighed, rolling over onto his back in bed and checking the time via his ECHO eye. 3:00 am. He’d been ruminating over this whole situation for a good two hours now, and his brain showed no signs of stopping its musings.

Rhys had suffered from insomnia for years - his mind just wouldn’t shut up most of the time. His general provider on Hyperion, a short woman with a no-nonsense attitude and graying hair named Dr. Reseda, had prescribed him a sleep aid a year or so ago. The pill had worked wonders, but Rhys couldn’t get it refilled until he went in for a general physical. He’d called Dr. Reseda once to explain how busy he was - much too busy to take off work for a checkup he was sure he didn’t need - and ask her if she could renew his prescription. The woman had responded rather icily. “I am a professional, Mr. Rhys,” she had said, “Don’t think for a moment I’m going to make an exception for you just because you work under Handsome Jack.”

So, about four nights a week, Rhys stayed up until his eyes felt gritty and his thoughts finally quieted enough for him to drift off. He went into work with bags under his eyes more often than not, feeling worn thin until he’d had at least two cups of coffee.

And for some reason, Jack had started commenting on it, looking Rhys up and down when he came into work and shaking his head. “You get any rest at all, cupcake?” he’d asked just this morning, taking the large pistachio and caramel latte his PA handed him and bringing it to his lips.

Rhys had shrugged. “Eh, some. I couldn’t fall asleep until 2 am, though, so I ended up working on the calendar for this month. Here, take a look.”

Jack narrowed his eyes, but let the subject drop. Still, though… The fact that he’d asked at all made something stir in Rhys’s chest. It was almost like Jack… Cared.

The young man cursed quietly into the darkness of his bedroom, shaking his head. “Get a grip, Rhys.” Jack didn’t care about anyone but himself. After working for him for nine months, Rhys should know that.

Still, the knowledge didn’t help his… Crush. That was really all it could be called. At first, Jack had been an obsession. Rhys owned all the merch: the cup with Jack’s face on it, the motivational posters, the tiny little bobblehead action figure, just to name a few. There were even socks - socks! - that went up to mid-calf with a picture of a small, stylized Jack who appeared to be lounging against your legs. Rhys fucking adored those socks, though he never dared to wear them in his boss’s presence for fear that the leg of his trousers would ride up somehow. If Jack even had an inkling how much of a fanboy he was, Rhys would never hear the end of it.

When he’d been picked out of dozens of applicants to be the man’s PA, he’d been absolutely thrilled. This was it, he’d thought, his chance to stand in the presence of one of the richest and most powerful men in the universe. To get to know him. To _help_ him.

Of course, things didn’t exactly go as planned. His first day of work, he’d entered Jack’s office sharply at 8 and found the man asleep on a pile of honest-to-god paperwork. Made of actual paper. He’d been so shocked that he’d actually made a… Well, it wasn’t a squeak. It was more of a… Surprised, slightly high-pitched gasp? ... Okay, it was a squeak. Jack had started at the noise, and within seconds of his awakening, Rhys found a pistol pointed at his face.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jack had growled, his masked face twisted with rage, “What are you doing in my office?”

“Sir! I’m- I’m your new personal assistant?” Rhys said, and fuck, his voice had trembled. He wasn’t proud of that.

Jack had frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Oh… Fuck, that was today, wasn’t it? Have a seat, kid.”

Rhys glanced around, but the only chair he could see beside’s Jack’s veritable throne was the one behind the desk in the corner. “Uh, should I go get that, or…?”

Jack had sighed and waved his hand dismissively. “No, no. Just stand. Whatever. Now, what’s your name, cupcake?”

“Rhys?”

“Right, right. You’re the one with the ECHO eye. Yeah, c’mere. Let me see.”

Rhys had walked awkwardly around the desk. To his surprise, Jack had grabbed his chin and pulled him in close, inspecting his eye carefully. “Hmm… Yeah, we’re going to have to upgrade this a little, but not bad. Not bad at all. What software you running, kitten?”

“The standard Hyperion issue. Everything’s up to date.” Updating his eye was a pain, given that he had to be awake for it and half of his field of vision was blacked out for a good 15 to 20 minutes, but Rhys knew that having the latest software was more than worth it.

Jack snorted. “Standard issue… Yeah, we’re definitely going to fix that. I’ll send you the program as soon as I’m done with all this shit.” He gestured to the papers littering his work space, and Rhys made a mental note to force the man to switch to ECHO tablets as soon as possible. “For now, you can start going through my email. Open anything marked classified or top secret, and I’ll throw you out the airlock. Just forward them to my personal account.”

That had been all Rhys had done for a week, even after he’d upgraded his ECHO eye. He’d sorted through email after email until his eyes hurt from staring at a screen for so long. Most of the emails Jack got were trivial things - everything from complaints to requests for higher salaries. As if the CEO had time to care about how much money some grunt down in R&D made. There were also reminders for meetings that Jack was supposed to attend, but Rhys began to notice that the man got so wrapped up in other projects (Though he wasn’t sure exactly what those were) that he missed a good quarter of them.

So Rhys had made a calendar. He’d worked hard on it too, even color-coding appointments by both importance and department. It had taken several hours to work up the courage to show it to Jack. In the end, he’d ended up chickening out halfway and emailing it to the man with a header labeled “Important.”

The next day, when Rhys had come into the office, Jack had pointed at the space in front of his desk with an impassive expression on his masked face. “Come here.”

The younger man had gulped, walking up the stairs to the platform Jack’s desk sat on. He clasped his hands behind his back, squeezing them together tightly to keep his whole body from shaking. “Sir?”

“Jack,” his boss corrected, scowling, “How many times have I told you not to call me ‘sir,’ kiddo?”  
  
“I’m sorry, Jack,” Rhys said, wincing a little, “I-”

The older man cut him off. “Yeah, whatever. Don’t do it again or I’ll throw you to the stalker experiments in the bio wing of R&D. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. What the hell,” he turned his computer’s digi-screen around so that it faced Rhys, “Is this?”

There, filling up the screen, was Rhys’s calendar. The PA gulped. “It’s, uh, your schedule. I- You were missing meetings and there were a lot of nasty emails, so I thought…” Jack was just staring at him, so Rhys backtracked. “I mean, you don’t have to use it if you don’t want to! Obviously. You’re the boss and everything. I just thought it might be useful, you know? But if it’s not-”

Jack interrupted, rolling his eyes.”Slow down there, cupcake. I’m not angry.” He scratched his chin a little, “In fact, I’m a little impressed. I know for a fact that some of these things were supposed to happen at the same time,”

“I… Yeah. I emailed the department heads,” Rhys mumbled, blushing. Jack was _impressed?_ With _him?_

“Huh.” Jack’s eyes raked over his PA for a moment, and then he nodded. “Alright then. I expect you to keep this bad boy up to date, you hear me?”

Rhys nodded, unable to contain his grin. _Handsome Jack_ was going to use something he’d put together. “I won’t let you down, si- Jack.”

“See that you don’t.”

From that day on, Rhys slowly accumulated more responsibilities. He went from simply organizing Jack’s schedule to actually making it, determining which department needed to be met with and how soon. He started a spreadsheet of Jack’s opinions on different projects and who he thought needed to be fired (Or airlocked). He calmed the older man when Jack failed to squeeze more money out of their investors and managed to keep his boss from murdering presenters every time one said something particularly stupid. He’d started bringing Jack coffee because the man was always dead tired in the mornings. Rhys quickly discovered that Jack liked his java with enough sugar to leave sludge at the bottom of the cup, and given that the PA didn’t want his boss to fall into some sort of diabetic coma, he’d begun experimenting with the dozens of syrups the coffee shop in the Hub of Heroism had to offer. While they weren’t exactly the healthiest, Rhys figured that using them was better than filling a fourth of Jack’s cup with sugar. The syrups certainly seemed to make him less jittery. 

Months went by, and slowly Rhys’s obsession with Jack shifted into infatuation, and that had morphed into a full-blown crush before he’d even realized it. It wasn’t about the fact that Jack was one of the richest and most powerful men in the galaxy - not anymore. Now whenever Rhys though of his boss, he thought of the way the man laughed, the rough sound of his voice, the way he called Rhys kitten sometimes. He thought of Jack’s passion and drive, the way he wouldn’t stop until his task had been accomplished. Jack was a genius, too. There was no denying that - he’d admitted once that he’d actually written the base for Rhys’s new ECHO eye program himself.

And, _God_ , Rhys couldn’t stop thinking about Jack’s body sometimes. He tried to avoid it, but when he was stroking himself off under the warm spray of the shower, his mind  inevitably turned to the wicked curve of Jack’s mouth, his muscular torso, his perfect ass, the dark hair that was just begging for Rhys to run his fingers through it. The fantasies in which Jack fucked him into the mattress, kissing him breathless and murmuring dirty things into his ear by turns, always got him off fast and hard.

Rhys sighed and glanced at the rack on the wall where his arm hung. It was ever so tempting to go and put it on so that he could get off with his human hand around his cock and smooth metal fingers deep in his hole. As it was, he only had the option for one, and at this point, it wasn’t worth it. Masturbating would just get him keyed up and then he’d never fall asleep.

So instead, Rhys closed his eyes and indulged in a different fantasy. This one he’d never admit to, despite the fact that it was one of his favorites. In his imagination, Jack was in his bed, curled up around him so that they lay like two spoons in a drawer. The man’s warm breath tickled the back of his neck and one of his arms was draped across Rhys’s waist. He was snoring softly - because of course Jack would snore - but the younger man found the sound more soothing than irritating.

Rhys snuggled into his pillow, a smile on his face. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost feel Jack pressed against his back. Finally, thankfully, he drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Rhys and Jack go to test out new weapon prototypes in R&D, an unexpected event leads to equally unexpected consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, guys... I am so sorry it took me this long to get another chapter out. I abandoned this thing for months whilst dealing with college stuff and stress, but finally got back into it. Hopefully this longer, plot-filled chapter will make up for everything. No promises, but hopefully I'll be able to work on this more continuously from now on!

Jack cursed and kicked the side of his desk, then cursed some more at the sharp pain in his foot. “Motherfucking son of a _bitch_!” He glared at the wooden piece of furniture as if it was the source of all his problems. Honestly, he might have tried smashing it at this point to get out some of his frustration if it wasn’t for the fact that the thing was made out of real mahogany, imported from Earth. The stuff from New Terra was cheaper, but what was the point of being filthy rich if you didn’t indulge a little sometimes?

Then again, Jack thought bitterly, what was the point of being filthy rich _and_ one of the most powerful men in the galaxy if he couldn’t even seduce his PA? He was Handsome goddamn Jack, for Christ’s sake! Charming, gorgeous, intelligent, witty… Not to toot his own horn or anything, but he was basically amazing. Rhys should have been falling to his knees the minute Jack started subtly flirting with him, but either his PA was as stupid as a skag or he just wasn’t interested. Neither option was very appealing.

Then again, his Rhysie had always been a little naive, Jack mused. It had taken him awhile to realize that when Jack said “fire” he sometimes really meant “airlock,” “strangle,” or “shoot in the face multiple times to test out a new prototype,” after all. So maybe it shouldn’t have come as as much of a surprise as it did that he wasn’t catching on… Yeah, Jack was just going to go with that because it hurt his ego a lot less than option #2.

Of course, that meant that he needed to step up his game. Get… Creative. Or get obvious, but being obvious just made you seem desperate. As far as Jack was concerned, you needed to fish for your dinner, not hunt it. Lure it in, bit by bit, until it was squirming on your hook, ready to be devoured whole.

And, oh, how Jack wanted to devour Rhys. Just once. Hell, right now he’s settle for a taste. After that first time, it had become far too easy to slip into nebulous fantasies of his PA’s body while he was in the shower or in bed late at night. He’d resist for a few minutes, but Jack had never been good at denying himself; he was a bit of a hedonist. So, inevitably, his hand would slip downwards and close around his cock. He’d never let the fantasies go too far, get specific or graphic, for fear that he’d remember them when he was looking at Rhys during the work day. That would inevitably lead to an embarrassing hard on he could do nothing about, and blue balls were only fun if you were playing orgasm denial games with the right partner.

This all boiled down to one conclusion: Jack was going to have to step up his game.

oOo

The opportunity came two days later. Jack was cranky from a long morning full of meetings, but he was feeling a little less murderous now that his lunch - a turkey club from, in his opinion, the best damn sandwich shop on Helios - had settled in his stomach. He checked his schedule on his ECHO comm, and there, lo and behold, was a sight that made his face light up, Weapons testing.

Trying out the new weapon prototypes was something Jack only got to do about three times a year, but playing with the new toys was always his favorite part of the day when he did get to do it. This session was blocked out for most of the afternoon and Jack actually did a little fist pump. Oh, yeah. This was going to be fun.

He headed towards the R&D Elemental Weapons testing range, grinning. While Jack was the one who approved the new guns and other equipment, seeing and _handling_ a working prototype got his blood pumping a hell of a lot faster than just looking at blueprints and hearing some lab monkey blabber on about new features in science-laden jargon.

Jack was the kind of guy who kept a collection of gorgeous, one-of-a-kind pistols and took them out to clean and coo over them more than was strictly necessary given the amount that he used them (Most of the idiots he shot didn’t deserve to have one of his darlings pressed against their miserable foreheads). He’d been looking to add something new and exciting to his assemblage, so when he walked into the testing range and saw the beauty on the table, he might as well have been a kid on Christmas.

“Oh, well, well, well, what do we have here?” the man purred, prowling towards the gun. It was a semi-automatic with swirling, red-orange filigree decorating the barrel and a grip of nearly the same shade. Jack immediately recognized it as a fire weapon, but by the looks of it, it was a flashy one that did more than just singe your hair off. He picked up the gun, turning it over in his hands and making a low, appreciative noise. “Damn… I can’t wait to see what you do, baby.” He honestly didn’t remember approving anything this awesome.

A cough sounded from the other side of the room, and Jack looked up. Rhys was arching an eyebrow at him with an amused expression. “So… As fun as it is to watch you try to seduce a pistol, we have work to do.”

“I don’t need to seduce her, kitten,” Jack grinned, “She’s already all mine.” He looked down the sights, taking aim at one of the nervous scientists standing by the firing range. The woman flinched and Jack snickeered. There were few things more satisfying about his job than scaring the pants off his underlings.

Rhys obviously disagreed. “Alright, if you could actually try _firing_ the gun at the targets, that’d be great. We have a dozen prototypes to try out here.”   
  
“Snippy, snippy,” Jack said coldly, “Be careful, kiddo. Keep using that tone and I might decide you’re too damn annoying to keep around.” Normally he wouldn’t care that much about Rhys’s backtalk, but he couldn’t have his PA ordering him around in front of the low-level employees.

Rhys caught the danger in his tone and nodded. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t,” Jack said, strolling over to the firing lanes and pointing a finger at a scientist. “Hey, you. Yeah, idiot, you. You wanna tell me what this thing is called?”

“T-the Conflagration, sir,” the scientist said, shifting nervously from foot to foot. When Jack gave him a blank look, he hurried to elaborate. “It m-means a large, destructive fire. This weapon is e-especially good at setting targets a-ablaze.”

“Conflagration… Mm, I like it,” Jack said, looking down the weapon’s sights at one digi-targets at the end of the lane, “Usually you guys are shit with names. Or well, maybe not you, but the fucking marketing department. They make everything sound so… Boring.” He flicked off the gun’s safety, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The digi-target burst into flames and made a semi-realistic screaming sound before dropping to the floor and dissolving into pixels. The gun had barely even jerked in Jack’s hands. He whistled. “Damn… Come here, Rhysie, you have got to try this. This goddamn thing has almost no recoil to it at all.”

He looked back to find Rhys shifting from foot to foot not unlike the scientist had been a few seconds ago. “What?”

“I… Uh. Well, I can’t fire a gun,” Rhys admitted sheepishly, “I never exactly... learned.”

Jack leveled an incredulous look at him. “Seriously? Jesus, pumpkin! How do you expect to protect yourself?” And damn if he didn’t actually feel a sliver of fear at the thought of Rhys getting shot to bits by assassins or bandits. Sure, he’d known the kid probably couldn’t even hold a gun properly, but in his excitement over the pistol, he’d forgotten. “Here, it’s not even that hard. I’ll teach you.”

Rhys opened his mouth to protest, but Jack was already flipping the gun’s safety back on, setting down, and grabbing his wrist to pull him over to the lanes. “Alright. First you’ve got to learn the correct stance. What’s your dominant hand?”

“My, uh, right hand,” Rhys said as Jack sidled up behind him.

“Heh, must’ve been a bitch when you lost your arm, then,” the older man said with a chuckle, beginning to adjust Rhys. “Here - left foot forward. Spread your feet apart a little more. There we go.”

“The arm thing was voluntary, actually,” Rhys admitted, shifting just as Jack told him to, “I got it to help me get ahead when I was still in data-mining.”

“Ambitious,” the other man said, but honestly he was more focused on the fact that he was nearly pressed up against his PA than what he was saying, “I didn’t think you had it in you, kiddo. Now, pick up the gun. No, not like that. Jesus.” He adjusted Rhys’s hold so that he was gripping the pistol with his middle and ring finger, his index finger resting under the slide while his pinky and thumb simply rested on the grip. He had to move so that his chest was touching Rhys’s back to do it, peering over the man’s shoulder. “Use your other hand to steady the gun. Good.”

He realized belatedly that he was nearly purring in his PA’s ear and he valiantly resisted the urge to just sort of… Grind against Rhys a bit. His dick was pretty much pressed against the other man’s ass at this point, which only magnified the temptation, and Jack mentally crossed his fingers that he wouldn’t accidentally get hard.

He adjusted Rhys’s arms a little so that the man was in the right position, trying to distract himself from the heat of his PA’s body against his. “Alright, now close one eye look down the sight. I’d close your normal eye - that fancy ECHO eye will probably help you aim. Which is cheating, but it’s your first time, so I’ll go easy on you.”

Was Rhys blushing? The tips of his ears certainly seemed a little red. Jack smirked; he had to admit, that slight innuendo had been on purpose, but he hadn’t thought that Rhys would actually react. The other man had completely ignored his attempts at flirting before. Maybe Jack was finally getting through to him, albeit in front of a bunch of scientists who were currently too scared to even speak, but would undoubtedly start spreading rumors the minute Jack was out of sight.

“Focus on the target,” Jack said, skating his fingers lightly over Rhys’s hip, “You got it?” The man nodded. “Good. Now put your finger on the trigger and use your thumb to flick off the safety.”

Jack dared to hook his chin over Rhys’s shoulder to watch as his PA did as he was told. “Alright. So, before you fire, I want you to take a deep breath and hold it. It’ll help your aim. Be prepared for a bit of a kick when you pull the trigger. There isn’t much with this beauty, but it’s still there and it can be a shock if you’re not expecting it.”

Rhys nodded, letting out a breath. “So… Like on the count of three, or?”

“Whenever you’re ready is fine.” Jack had taught his ex-wife to shoot and, from that long-ago experience, he’d figured out that rushing things didn’t work out so well. Namely, it had led to her elbowing him in the face and Jack barely reigning in the desire to put his hands around her pretty throat and squeeze. She’d been a bitch about it and laughed as he wiped at the blood.

Rhys made a noise of agreement, and it was a handful of seconds before he actually pulled the trigger. The shot rang out, more of a rumble than a bang; only poorly-made bandit weapons hurt your ears when you fired them these days. The shot hit the digi-target in the chest, just below its sternum. Jack made an approving sound as the thing caught fire and fell to the floor of the lane.

“Not bad, kitten. Not bad at all for a first timer.”

“The ECHO eye helped my aim a lot,” his PA admitted with a nervous chuckle, “And you were right - I wasn’t prepared for that kick, really.”

“Eh, you didn’t drop it,” Jack shrugged, “I’ve seen worse. Why don’t you try again?”

It took a dozen or so more shots, learning how to reload, and a couple of tips from Jack, but soon Rhys could get a headshot nearly every time with his ECHO eye open. It was kind of impressive, even if it was mostly the tech doing the aiming for him. Pressed up against his PA, idly skimming his fingers over the younger man’s hip, Jack wondered if he was just a damn good teacher of if his Rhysie had a natural talent.

“This is actually kind of fun,” Rhys admitted as the digi-target’s head exploded into a shower of pixels, “It’s not as hard as I thought it’d be, either.”

Jack chuckled. “Yeah, well say that again after you’ve fired an explosive weapon that tries to jump out of your hands, kiddo.”

“What, you don’t think I could do it?” Rhys asked, turning to look at Jack. Their lips were inches apart and Jack had to fight not to close the space and ravish his PA right there in front of the silent scientists.

“I think you can try,” the older man smirked, pulling away from Rhys and turning to the woman he’d pointed the pistol at before. “You. You got any explosive pistols to try out?”

“Y-yes, sir!” she said, hurrying over to the table (Which still contained a half dozen weapons Jack had yet to try out… Whoops). She picked up a thick semi-automatic decorated with yellow and white and handed it to her boss. Jack nearly laughed at how careful she was not to let their hands brush. What, did she think he was going to kill her for a little skin on skin contact? He handed the gun to Rhys, who had put down the Conflagration after switching the safety back on.

“So, what’s this one called?” the PA asked, giving the scientist a polite smile.

“The Bottom Line,” the woman said, her voice trembling a little less now that she was talking to Rhys, “It fires a single explosive shot that does massive damage in a sphere .3 meters in diameter.”

The man hummed in affirmation, looking the gun over. “Hmm… It’s heavier than the other one.”

The scientist nodded. “Yes, sir. To withstand the explosive shot without breaking apart, the barrel must be thicker and sturdier than in non-explosive pistols.”

“I guess you learn something new every day,” Rhys said, flashing her a grin. Jack felt a stab of jealousy and his chest, which only grew when the scientist blushed a little. What, did she think she was worth Rhys’s time or something? Jesus, how naive. The kid was _Handsome Jack’s_ PA. He could do so much better than some R &D techy so pale she’d probably never even bothered to buy a solar lamp for her dingy little office.

“Alright,” Jack said, interrupting their little “moment.” He may have been straight, but Rhys was _his_ to play with. “Let’s see what you can do with that, kiddo.”

The younger man nodded, walking over to the firing lanes. He took aim, flipped the safety off, and pulled the trigger.

An explosive noise sounded through the room and Jack watched as the gun in Rhys’s hands splintered apart. He felt as if everything was moving in slow motion as shrapnel flew through the air. He could see the result it was going to cause in his mind’s eye -- Rhys bloody, broken. His face stuck full of metal and sharp plastic, his hands torn to shreds.

Jack braced himself, not looking away. He’d gotten Rhys into this, and he’d be damned if he wouldn’t see it through. The first shards hit the younger man’s face and… Bounced. Time seemed to speed up again and all Jack could process was the blue sheen of a shield flickering over Rhys’s body as the shrapnel fell to the floor around him and he was left holding the pistol’s shattered grip.

It took a few seconds before everyone seemed to process what had happened, but when male scientist who had told Jack the name of the first pistol let out a choked sob of “Oh my god” everyone else seemed to awaken at once. The female scientist was rushing to find her ECHO comm to, presumably, alert the med team, Rhys was dropping the grip with a shell shocked expression, and Jack… Jack was seeing red. He let out a snarl and before he really processed what he was doing, he was wrapping his hands around the male scientist’s throat. “Heeey, buddy! What the _fuck_ was that?” he asked, mock cheerful as he began to squeeze, his voice going dark on the expletive.

“S-sir, please,” the scientist gasped, “I can’t b-breathe.”

“That’s generally the point of me _strangling_ you, dumbass,” Jack snarled, “Now answer the goddamn question and I might not kill you slowly and painfully!”

“It was- accident,” the man rasped, “Didn’t- was good before.” He clawed uselessly at the hands around his throat, probably mostly out of instinct. Jack didn’t think he would have dared be so bold if he was getting enough oxygen to his brain.

“You know… That’s what they all say,” the president sighed, digging his thumbs in a little more, “‘Oh, Handsome Jack, sir! I didn’t mean to try to assassinate you; it was an accident!’” The scientist whimpered, his knees giving out. He slid down the wall and Jack followed him until he was crouching before the slumped man. “Load of fucking bullshit. It’s a pity, really… Most of the time I have to turn them over to security for investigative purposes, figure out who hired them and all… But maybe today I’ll just have a little fun myself, huh? See how many of your fingers I can break before you start blabbing.”

The techy actually pissed himself then, the scent of urine filling the air as a wet stain bloomed on the front of his trousers. Jack wrinkled his nose. “Jesus, apparently I won’t even have to break anything at all.” He began to squeeze more firmly, cutting off the last of  the scientist’s airflow. “I guess I’ll just kill your pitiful little ass and get it over with.”

“Jack.”

Rhys’s voice sounded from behind him, and the president turned his head to look at the younger man. “Hey, cupcake. It’s okay. It’ll just take me a few more seconds to take care of this, and then we can get you to the med wing, alright?” His tone was gentle, almost compassionate -- the complete opposite of the dark cheeriness of seconds before.

“J-Jack,” Rhys said, closing his eyes as his voice trembled, “Just- Just let security take care of it. Killing him right now isn’t practical.” He paused and then, softly, “Please.”

The older man let out a breath and released his grip on the scientist’s neck, standing. The man coughed and began breathing in great lungfuls of air, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Fine. We’ll do it your way, but only because you’re probably traumatized or some shit.”

Rhys chuckled shakily and nodded. “Probably. I-” Before he could finish his sentence, the med team burst into the room, closely followed by a couple security officers. They generally always came when someone high profile needed medical help, just in case there was something, well, something like this happening.

“You two!” Jack barked, “Security! Take this fucking scum bag out of my sight.” Here he kicked the scientist at his feet viciously. “And find his friggin’ counterpart. Pale chick, red hair, freckles. Wearing a lab coat. I want them interrogated and put into indefinite holding.”

“Yes, sir!” the two women in Hyperion white and yellow security uniforms said in unison. One went straight for the techy on the floor while the other sprinted off to find the other scientist. Jack, meanwhile, turned to Rhys. The team of three EMTs were checking him over. One was scanning his vitals, another was inspecting him, presumably for wounds, while the last was talking to him in a calm, even voice.

“Are you in pain? Dizzy? Nauseous?”

Rhys shrugged, laughing a little. “I… Don’t really know? I don’t feel anything right now, but I’m… I’m pretty much in shock. Hopped up on adrenaline too.”

“That’s understandable,” the short, pudgy EMT said with a smile, “You went through a very scary experience. Now, how about you lay down on the hover stretcher and we’ll get you to the med wing, alright?”

“I’m coming too,” Jack snarled, narrowing his eyes at the EMT who opened his mouth to protest. “What, you got a problem, sweet cheeks? Or do I need to remind you who the fuck I am?”

The man shook his head mutely. “No, sir…”

“I found some lacerations on his shoulder,” one of the other members of the med team said with a frown, “We need to get these patched up ASAP. They’re bleeding.”

Sure enough, when Jack looked at Rhys more closely, he could see the red patch blooming on the white fabric of his shirt. The older man sucked in a breath. “Shit… Get on the stretcher, kitten.”

Rhys nodded, climbing onto the hovering cot and laying back. He looked more than a little dazed.

Jack followed the EMTs through corridors and into the elevator, feeling a little dazed himself. Rhys… Rhys could have died. That thought hit him like a train and he almost stopped walking, but forced himself to keep putting one foot in front of the other on autopilot. Jesus… If he hadn’t been wearing that shield, that shrapnel would have probably pierced something vital, like his eyeball or an artery. Even if it hadn’t, his PA would have been a lot of pain. More than he was in now, anyways; Jack didn’t know how deep those cuts were.

Where was the shield anyways? The one’s that cost a fuckload were tiny and slim, but anything standard was basically like carrying a sign that said “Shoot me! It probably won’t hurt!”

Jack let his eyes rake over Rhys searchingly, his eyebrows going up when he finally spied the hexagonal shape hooked onto the auburn-haired man’s belt. That was the standard shield model that he used to use… Which made sense when Jack realized he’d actually given it to Rhys as a Christmas present. He’d picked it out last minute when he’d realized that oh, yeah, it was the day Rhys is coming back into work after his 2 day holiday break and he hadn’t gotten his PA anything. Not that he’d needed to give the kid something. It was just that back then he’d been sort of… Ignoring his physical attraction to Rhys, but couldn’t quite squash the whole protective aspect of his emotions towards the other man.

Jack was… Okay, he had to admit, he picked most of his gifts last minute. One of his presents to himself had been a swanky new Hyperion shield model that was also a badass looking pocket watch, so when he’d seen the old one on his nightstand, he’d decided to say fuck it and just give that to Rhys.

But hell, here the kid was actually using it. And Jack… Jack honestly wasn’t sure how that made him feel. Sort of… Happy? But that didn’t make sense given that he was already feeling murderous and worried and a little bit shellshocked. God, what a mix of fucking emotions.

By the time they arrived in the med wing, Rhys was making soft, pained sounds from the stretcher. He made a hissing noise when the EMTs helped him off of it and into an exam room. Jack watched, expressionless, as one of them injected a numbing agent into his PA’s neck and guided him to the half bed, half medical table that sat in the middle of the room.

“I’ll get one of the doctors on hand,” the shortest EMT told Rhys with a kind smile, “That hypo should slow the bleeding and reduce the pain, but if you feel like you’re about to pass out from blood loss or if you’re in agony or anything, just press the call button and we’ll get someone in here ASAP.”

“You’d better,” Jack said, his voice dangerous, “Now get out. I want someone in here in no more than ten minutes.” The technicians nodded, almost in unison, before scurrying out the door.

Jack let his big-boss persona drop. Well, to the extent that he even could drop it, anyways; he was a natural born leader, thank you very much. He sank onto the edge of Rhys’s bed with a sigh. “Jesus… How you feeling, pumpkin?”

“You know… In pain, but not as much as before,” his PA shrugged, “Those drugs are fantastic.” He gave Jack a lopsided smile.

The man looked down at Rhys’s face, drinking it in: strong nose, sharp jawline, mismatched ECHO-blue and bright hazel eyes… The curve of his lips. It was… Enticing. _I could have lost him_ , Jack thought in a daze, _he could have died and I would have never gotten the chance to taste that fucking sinful mouth._

The urge to do so now was overwhelming and, well, Jack never had been one to deny himself things he wanted this badly, even if they were things he shouldn’t actually desire. He leaned down and slanted his mouth across Rhys’s, soft at first. There was a surprised squeak, a puff of air, and he kissed the man harder, sinking his teeth into Rhys’s plush lower lip a bit.

It was like a spark going off inside a barrel of gunpowder, that bite, because suddenly the other man was kissing back, hot and hard and needy. Rhys opened his mouth for Jack’s tongue, and the sensual slide of spit-slicked flesh quickly took on a thrusting quality that Jack usually only experienced before he was going to get a great lay.

He wasn’t sure how much later the knock on the door came, he was so focused on Rhys’s lips. He could feel them perfectly, the micro-tech in his mask transferring the sensations across to his real mouth as his cock pressed uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans.

He jerked at the rap of knuckles against the sliding door of the exam room, barely avoiding slamming his nose against Rhys’s. “Rhys, sir?” came a firm, feminine voice from outside, “It’s Dr. Reseda. May I come in?”

Jack looked at the door, then down at Rhys. The man’s lips were slightly red and swollen, his eyes wide as saucers. “J-just a moment!” his PA called, his voice quavering and rough.

Jack stood, and when Rhys called, “Come in,” he was stalking out the door past a dark-skinned woman with graying hair as fast as he could without running.

Several yards down the corridor, he allowed himself to slump back against the wall and close his eyes for a moment.

Fuck.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys talks to Vaughn; Jack talks to Nisha. Guess which one gets drunk and pours his heart out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for leaving this unattended for so long so... Here, have a chapter?

Rhys scanned his ID wearily and the door to his and Vaughn’s apartment slid open with a comforting swish. Good lord, was he glad to be home.

He’d spent the hospital visit getting his skin regenerated as Dr. Reseda clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “I thought you were too smart to play around with experimental tech,” she’d said, pursing her lips as she ran a device that looked somewhat like an intricate, deconstructed flashlight over his shoulder.

“Well, you know me,” Rhys had said with a nervous laugh, “I don’t always look out for myself.” He was only half paying attention to their conversation; the rest of his focus was on replaying the kiss with Jack over and over again in his head.

He was doing it now, too, even as he walked into the apartment. He couldn’t stop thinking about Jack’s tongue in his mouth, the man’s hands on his shoulder. Jack had kissed him like a starving man: desperate, craving, like he couldn’t get enough.

“Hey, bro!” came a voice from the living room, breaking Rhys out of his thoughts. The PA almost jumped in surprise before he remembered that Vaughn had stayed home with a nasty cold that day. He slipped off his shoes and padded down the short hall and into the living room, where his best friend was sitting in front of the TV and munching potato chips, a large box of tissues sitting on the coffee table before him.

"Hey," Rhys said, and he knew he sounded as shitty as he felt by the way Vaughn looked up with concern written all over his face. Concern quickly turned to alarm, though, as his roommate's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

"Holy shit... Rhys? Is that blood?" Vaughn's voice shook as he asked the question and Rhys looked down at himself in alarm. Was he still bleeding somewhere? It was only then that he noticed the blood staining the white fabric of his dress shirt, creating a sanguine blot across his shoulder. It was old, from the initial wound, but it was a grisly sight.

"Shit," the man murmured. He'd really liked this shirt.

"Oh my god." Vaughn sounded a little faint. "Please... Jesus. Please tell me you're okay, Rhys."

"I'm fine," Rhys reassured him, moving over to the couch. Vaughn was immediately standing and giving his best friend a crushing hug. Rhys winced. "Okay- Ow. Maybe not that fine. My shoulder's still super sensitive."

Vaughn backed off with a sheepish sound. "Sorry... Dermal regenerator?"

“Yeah,” Rhys said, his smile shaky around the edges, “Those things sting. I'm good though -- All healed up." He tried to put a little confidence into his voice, but he had a feeling it didn’t work given the way Vaughn was looking at him.

“How'd you get hurt in the first place?" his best friend inquired, frowning at Rhys’s shoulder.

“Would you believe it was a paper cut gone bad?” the auburn haired man asked, aiming for levity and falling short by a mile.

“Ha ha,” Vaughn said flatly. Then he paused. “Rhys… Did- Look, don’t chew me out if I’m wrong about this, but did… Handsome Jack do this to you?”

“No! No. Jesus, Vaughn. It was an assassination attempt.” The shorter man’s eyes widened in near-terror and Rhys silently cursed himself as he attempted to calm his best friend down. “Not on me, bro -- I’m not nearly important enough to try to do away with. If it wasn’t an accident -- which still might be a possibility -- then it was probably aimed at Jack. A gun exploded in my hands while I was trying out some weapons in R&D if I hadn’t been wearing my shield…”

Vaughn made a distressed noise and grabbed his best friend for another, gentler hug. "I could have lost you, bro... Fuck."

Rhys hugged the man back, burying his face in Vaughn's neck. He wasn't usually one to get all worked up like this, but the day's events had been taxing, to say the least. "Yeah... Yeah, I know. But I'm not lost, okay? I'm fine... I'm fine." Belatedly, he realized he was crying, tears slipping down his cheeks to wet the soft material of Vaughn's t-shirt. 

He could be dead right now. If he'd forgot to wear his shield, if the last bits of shrapnel had hit him in the wrong place...  That would have been it for him. He could be dead, but instead he was here, with the taste of Jack in his mouth -- a slightly synthetic flavor, probably from his mask -- and his best friend hugging him close.

Vaughn pulled back after a moment, wiping at his eyes, which had been leaking the same as Rhys's. "Promise me you'll be more careful, bro? I... You know I've never liked that you're working for Handsome Jack -- the guy's a loose cannon on his best days -- but, you know, it's your choice and all. I just don't want to lose you."

Rhys gave his best friend a watery smile, but inside his guts were churning. If Vaughn was reacting like this because he was afraid of his best friend _working_ for Handsome Jack, what would he do if he found out about the kiss? If Jack was dangerous to work for, then what did it mean to have his tongue in your mouth, his hands in your hair? What did it mean to feel the hot, hard bulge of him through the layers of both your clothing?

Rhys was walking a line, he knew, though he wasn’t sure between what and what. He was in a liminal space, one where Jack’s kiss could mean anything. It was almost laughable to think that the CEO wanted him, but the idea that he’d kissed Rhys to make fun of him or because he liked the thrill of danger and would have pressed his lips against anyone’s made something dark and sick settled in the PA’s stomach.

“Hey, you should lie down,” Vaughn said, breaking Rhys out of his thoughts briefly, “You don’t look so hot.”

The auburn haired man nodded mutely, letting his best friend gently lead him towards his room. He undressed out of habit more than anything once Vaughn was gone, his head buzzing with static as he tossed his bloodstained shirt in the recycler, took off his arm, and slipped under the covers in nothing but his boxers. He felt exhausted, his eyes gritty with the need for sleep, but he couldn’t bring himself to even attempt to give over to the feeling.

Jack’s face swam up behind Rhys’s closed eyelids. It was an image that the PA was pretty sure would be burned into his memory for all time: Jack’s hair was wild from where Rhys’s fingers had been running through it, his lips slick with spit, though the mask kept them from getting kiss-bruised. And his eyes… Jack had looked at Rhys like he was the only thing in the world that mattered in that moment and it had been intoxicating.

Rhys groaned softly and rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow. “I want him,” he murmured into the fabric. He’d hoped saying the words out loud would relieve the tension in his shoulders, but instead they just made him shudder with another surge of desire. His cock began to harden against the sheet and Rhys laughed bitterly. Of course he was getting hard; today had nearly been a masturbatory fantasy come to life. Jack had taught him to _shoot_ for Christ’s sake, all pressed up against Rhys’s back as he murmured husky instructions into his ear. And sure, while nearly dying wasn’t exactly a turn on for him, he would go through it again a hundred times if it meant getting another burning kiss from Jack.

And that was the fucked up part, wasn’t it? Rhys didn’t regret that kiss one bit, despite all the reasons he should. Jack was not only his boss, but one of the most feared men in the solar system, if not the galaxy. He killed people (and enjoyed it) on his worst days, and on his best, his favorite habit was making employees nearly piss themselves from fear. He wasn’t even really nice to Rhys, not most of the time; Jack teased him mercilessly and skipped scheduled appointments if he thought Rhys was too pushy about making them.

And then there was the fact that Jack was… Straight. Maybe not completely, given how passionately he’d kissed Rhys, but that didn’t exactly… Well. While humanity had come a long ways in terms of accepting homosexuality, there were still plenty of prejudices out there. Jack wasn’t overtly homophobic by any means, but from what Rhys had seen and heard, he seemed to think that being truly “masculine” had a lot to do with attracting and being attracted to women. So even if he did want Rhys, as impossible as that sounded, the PA doubted he wanted anything more than to get his dick wet trying something novel.

And Rhys… God help him, Rhys didn’t want that. He didn’t want just one fuck from Handsome Jack; he wanted more. It was stupid -- so goddamn stupid -- but he wanted to wake up in the morning, having slept in Jack’s bed, to find the CEO still there. He wanted sleepy kisses and breakfast before they went to work.. He wanted to be able to sit next to Jack at business dinners and press himself against his arm, lovebites decorating his neck like trophies. He wanted this stupid crush of his to blossom into something dazzling, and… And there was no way in hell that was going to happen.

At the end of the day, Handsome Jack was Handsome Jack -- rich, powerful, and gorgeous -- and Rhys? Comparatively, Rhys might as well be nothing.

The auburn haired man wiped at the tears trickling down his cheeks before giving up when they didn’t stop coming. He let himself cry silently into his pillow until finally, somehow, his eyes closed and his body gave up the fight to maintain consciousness.

oOo 

Alcohol, Jack thought as he downed what might have been his fifth glass of whiskey, was probably the answer to life. Sure, eridium could make you rich, but maybe the only point of money was to buy nicer, more expensive booze? In his drunken state, that made complete sense, and so he nodded to himself with a contemplative expression as he poured another drink with unsteady hands. At this point, he didn’t even notice the burn as he took a gulp.

“Fucking… Rhys,” the CEO muttered, licking his lips. If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel his PA’s mouth on his again. One hand drifted to his crotch as he sipped his drink and he began to rock into it almost idly. That kiss had been fucking fantastic; Rhys knew how to use that sinful mouth of his even better than… Well, almost any girl he’d been with.

That thought brought the rest of Jack’s musings crashing down around his ears and he snatched his hand away from his bulge as if it had burned him. With unsteady hands, he poured himself another glass of whiskey from the bottle on the coffee table. “Motherfucking Jesus Christ on a _stick_.”

He was _straight_ . As a line, as a ruler, as… He couldn’t really think of that many more straight objects, but that was him. How could he have forgotten that? He’d been so caught up in trying to… To _seduce_ Rhys a bit, that he hadn’t stopped to think if he actually _should_ be.

Because the fact of the matter was, he was enjoying this way too much.

Jack groaned and set his whiskey aside, grabbing his ECHO comm from the couch cushion beside him. He needed to talk to… Someone. He wasn’t sure who; his list of actual friends was depressingly short. He scrolled through his contact list, getting to N before he actually saw someone who wouldn’t exploit his vulnerability: Nisha. He hit call.

After a few rings, the woman’s face appeared on screen, lit eerily by the glow from her comm. She looked groggy, not to mention angry, a pillow line pressed into her cheek. Jack promptly remembered that Pandora’s day/night cycles didn’t exactly line up with Helios’s. He winced.

“Uhh… Hey there, Nish... “

“Stop,” the sheriff commanded, “Stop right there Jack, and think about what you’re about to say. If it’s not an emergency, you damn well better hang up right now.”

Nisha was probably the only person in the galaxy that Jack would let talk to him that way, but since it was her, he paused and duly thought over whether or not this situation constituted an emergency. He settled on yes.

After a moment, Nisha sighed. “Alright. Damnit. Who do I need to kill?”

Jack quirked an eyebrow at the screen. “Uh, okay, not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but what makes you think I want you to go put a bullet in someone’s brain, exactly? I’m usually pretty capable of doing that myself.

“You look like a kicked puppy and you’re slurring your speech enough that I’m guessing you’ve been drinking,” Nisha told him matter-of-factly, “I’ve seen that pattern about as many times as I can count on one hand, but I know that it usually means you let someone close enough to hurt you.”

Jack glared at her. He was Handsome goddamn Jack; he was not a puppy - he was a feral junkyard dog if anything. He didn’t let people close -- Or he hadn’t for a damn long time... Not until Rhys.

It was then that Jack realized how deep in skag shit he was. “Fuck me.”

“Not when you’re pining over someone else,” Nisha countered, a hint of a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. “So, who is she? I need her name if I’m going to hunt her down and strangle her to death for hurting you.”

Jack closed his eyes, flushing beneath his mask. At least Nisha couldn’t see. “Uh… He’s…” The CEO couldn’t get anything out past the pronoun. There was a shocked silence and Jack peeked one eye open to see Nisha giving him an unreadable look.  
  
“Well, he’s what exactly?” the Sheriff asked after a long pause and Jack gaped at her.

“Welllll,” he said, sarcastically dragging out the word, “He’s a goddamn _man_ , Nish.”

Nisha’s eyes widened and she put her hand over her mouth in mock shock. “He’s a _man?_ Oh dear, I didn’t get that from the pronoun usage! Lordy me, Jack, how sinful!” She’d adopted a false drawl by the end, indicative of some of the backwater planets. Jack glared at her and she dropped the act, raising an eyebrow. “Honestly, did you really think I’d care?”

“Hell if I know! It’s not like we’ve.. Discussed any of that,” Jack huffed, tossing back the rest of his whiskey, “You could be a bigot or something.” In fact, he hadn’t actually considered that possibility in much detail before calling her and he winced internally. Thaaaat could have been a mistake.

“I could be a bigot,” Nisha said, “Right. That’s totally possible.” Sarcasm dripped from every word.

“Um, yeah?” Jack arched an eyebrow, “Some people still believe that whole ‘one man, one woman’ bullcrap, you know.”  
  
“Oh my fucking god.” Nisha closed her eyes for a moment and then began to laugh outright.  
  
“What, what’s so funny?” Jack glared at her.

“Did- did you really think that all those times we had threesomes with women that I was just… suffering?” Nisha snickered, her words coming out between puffs of laughter. “That I’d lay between a chick’s legs and eat her out until she came half a dozen times just so you could get your rocks off? Oooh, lord.”

Jack blinked at her, the gears in his head beginning to turn ever so slowly. Then something clicked into place and he gaped. “You’re…”

“Bisexual,” Nisha filled in for him, grinning, “God, I hope you’re not too drunk to forget this conversation, because I am _not_ going to let you live this down.

Jack felt like his entire world had been suddenly set on his head for a moment, but honestly… It made sense. Nish wasn’t the type to limit herself in any way… Why would she limit her sexual interests to just one gender?

“Fuck off,” the man muttered, mentally blaming the heat in his cheeks on the alcohol rather than embarrassment, “It was an honest mistake!”

Nisha just tipped her head back and laughed even louder. She was liable to wake all of Lynchwood with the noise, Jack thought petulantly. Finally, her guffaws slowed to chuckles and her expression slowly changed from amused to serious. “So. What’s his name?”

“Rhys,” Jack said, rubbing at his mask with one hand, “He’s my PA.” Nisha looked like she was holding back laughter again. “And, no, Nish, he’s _not_ that kind of personal.”

“But you wish he was,” she countered, and Jack grit his teeth.

After a moment, though, he sighed and closed his eyes. “... Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

When he opened his eyes again, Nisha was looking at him contemplatively. “So… What exactly is the problem?”

“Well, for starters, I’m not gay,” Jack said, as if it was that clear cut. He’d thought it was, but now… He waasn’t so sure. He’d _really_ liked kissing Rhys.

“You don’t have to be. Sexuality is way more fluid than you ever give it credit for,” Nisha told him, resting her chin on one palm. “I like men, women, and everything in between equally, but some people lean a certain way. You may never have wanted a man before now… Or you may not have let yourself acknowledge those feelings before now. Either way is okay.”

That speech was much more serious than anything Nisha usually said. Jack shifted awkwardly, coughing to hide his discomfort. “I’m way too fucking old to be having a sexuality crisis…”

Nisha opened her mouth and then closed it again, her lips thinning into a line. Jack knew she’d been about to mention his grandmother - what she’d done to him - and was instantly glad she hadn’t. He wasn’t drunk enough to talk about that bitch, not even with Nisha.

Instead, the Sheriff just sighed. “Look, I say go for it, but if he breaks your heart, I’m breaking his neck, capische?”

“I’m not attached enough for him to break my heart,” Jack said with a roll of his eyes, “I just… He has a really, _really_ nice ass.”

“Well then you should try to hit it,” Nisha said with a waggle of her eyebrows, “Or bite it. Whichever.”

“You know me too fucking well,” Jack grinned, showing an unnecessary amount of teeth in the expression.

“Unfortunately,” the woman rolled her eyes, “Can I go back to sleep now? I have a bandit clan to hunt down in the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure,” Jack said, waving his hand dismissively, his usual flippant demeanor back in full effect, “Give ‘em hell for me.”

“I always do,” Nisha said, and ended the call.

Jack settled back on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. He felt lighter than before, despite the heaviness in his limbs brought on by copious amounts of alcohol. He glanced at the mostly empty bottle, considering another drink, but ultimately rejected the idea in favor of dragging himself to his feet and stumbling off to bed.

Tomorrow was going to be a big day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now is the time. Now our protagonists must face each other after The Kiss. Are they ready? Are YOU ready?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's almost the anniversary of this fic! I feel like should have gotten more done in that time, but I'm proud of what I have and that's what counts. Thank you all for supporting me and I promise there's still more to come!

Rhys considered calling in sick to work the next day.

Then he considered just quitting his damn job and taking a position back in data-mining. Or he could always move off Helios. Or quit working for Hyperion entirely. While he was at it, he might as well fake his own death and spend the rest of his life as a hermit in a small shack in the middle of the Pandoran desert.

Point was, the thought of facing Jack today (Or ever)? Not one Rhys was relishing.

But Vaughn was giving him weird looks as he dragged himself slowly through his morning routine (He usually preferred to get out the door as fast as possible), and possibly the only thing worse than seeing his boss’s handsome, masked face was telling Vaughn exactly why he was avoiding doing that. His bro would totally panic on him, maybe hyperventilate. Vaughn’s anxiety had been real bad in college and Rhys still remembered the way Vaughn’s face went white when he had an attack, the way he struggled to breathe and looked like his thoughts were eating him up inside. Rhys was _not_ going to be the cause of that.

So after he’d finished his bowl of cereal, he didn’t loiter around any longer. He gave Vaughn a little wave and slipped the door. He managed to strut confidently toward the Hub of Heroism and get in line for coffee before the nerves hit him in full force once more.

Oh god. _Handsome Jack_ , CEO of Hyperion and general all-around badass had kissed him. In a hospital bed. After a gun had just exploded in Rhys’s hands. And to top it all off, Jack had vanished afterward.

Rhys was still gnawing on his lower lip when he reached the front of the line. The barista had to cough to get his attention and Rhys jerked out of his revery, blurting out his own coffee order on autopilot. He got a toffee-cranberry combo for Jack as well. If nothing else, ordering weird coffee for his boss was calming - normal. It could also be a peace offering. Or he could use it to drown himself if facing the older man turned out to be too embarrassing to tolerate. There were lots of uses for coffee.

“Hey, stranger!” a cheery voice called out from behind him and Rhys turned to see Yvette jogging towards him on a pair of very high heels. Honestly, he was surprised she hadn’t twisted an ankle at the pace she was going, but then again, Yvette was a very talented woman. He’d seen her dance up a storm in a pair almost that high. She threw her arms around him and he squeaked, barely avoiding spilling the coffee he’d picked up moments before.

“Yvette! You’re back from vacation early!” Rhys grinned, doing his best to hug her back. Yvette smelled like cocoa butter - sweet and familiar. The auburn-haired man breathed in the scent with a happy sigh. “God, am I ever glad to see you.”

Yvette pulled back, arching an eyebrow. “Yeah? I’d hope so. But I assume you mean gladder than usual. What did Vaughn do, refuse to watch a cheesy romance with you?”

Rhys rolled his eyes, then bit his lip. “Actually, uh… Could I talk to you about something?”

Yvette’s eyebrows went up and she checked her watch. “Well, work officially start in 30, so yeah, for a bit. What’s up?”

“Not here,” Rhys murmured, glancing beside him at the line of Hyperion employees seeking their daily caffeine fix and Yvette’s brows arched even higher.

“Alright then. You wanna…” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder to some nearby tables and Rhys nodded. It wasn’t as private as he would have liked, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He followed Yvette to the most secluded seats, twisting his hands in his lap as soon as he’d sat down.

“Okay, Rhys… Spill,” Yvette said after a moment of watching Rhys chew his lower lip in silence. When the auburn-haired man hesitated, she sighed. “Look, I’ve known you practically since you started interning here, Rhys. I can tell when you’re really upset. And since you obviously are, I’m guessing you haven’t talked to Vaughn about it yet either. Is this about him?”

“What?” That startled Rhys into speaking, “No! No, Yvette. Vaughn and I are fine. This is about Jack.”

“Jack? _Handsome_ Jack? Our boss? Are you in trouble with him?”

Rhys chuckled nervously. “Um… No. Not exactly.”

“Okay,” Yvette said, giving the man across from her a piercing look, “You’d better start talking real fast.” That was her no-nonsense voice. Rhys winced.

“So… Yesterday, we were testing some weapons down in R&D and one of the guns exploded in my hands. I’m fine!” He gave Yvette a nervous smile. “The dermal regenerator thing patched me right up. But, uh… When I was in the hospital room, Jack… Shit, Yvette. He kissed me.”

The woman was speechless for a second, staring at Rhys with an expression that was half surprise, half alarm. “You’re joking.”

“Afraid not.”

“Jesus.” Yvette rubbed her temples for a moment, as if trying to stave off a headache, then held out her hand. “I’m taking your coffee.” Rhys handed it over willingly, watching as she took a drink. “Alright. Now, did you kiss back?”

Rhys squirmed in his seat. “Well… Maybe. Kinda? Okay, yes, a lot.”

Yvette took another swig from the auburn haired man’s cup, looking very much like she wished it was something stronger. “Jesus, Rhys… Of all the bad decisions. I know he’s your idol and all, but…”

“I know. I know,” Rhys sighed, “He could kill me in an instant; he’s dangerous and unstable; he gets off on death and power. That’s what everyone says, right?” The man ran a hand through his hair, probably ruining his gelled back look. For once, he didn’t care. “The thing is, he’s not always like that, Yvette. He has his, uh, moments, but most of the time he’s just… He’s funny and smart and kind of a total geek when it comes to coding. He doesn’t mind me bringing him coffee with gross flavor combinations and he worries about my sleeping habits. I know he’s Handsome Jack, but he’s also, you know, just _Jack._ ”

Yvette regarded him over the rim of the coffee cup for a moment. “…You really like him don’t you?”

Rhys bit his lower lip and nodded. “I’m fucked, aren’t I?”

“Probably,” Yvette shrugged, “But at this point… He kissed you, right? He’s interested at least. I’d say that the best thing you can do at this point is make the most of it.”

Rhys smiled at her, relaxing slightly, though his frayed nerves still showed in his expression. “Yeah… Yeah, I guess. Thanks, Yvette. I think I really needed to get that off my chest.”

The woman shrugged again, as if it was no big deal. “That’s what friends are for. I understand why you didn’t tell Vaughn, though; he’d totally’ve freaked.”

Rhys grimaced. “Yeah… If this goes anywhere, though, I’ll probably have to tell him eventually.” He shook his head in resignation. “Whatever. I’m just… I should go. You know, face my fears and all that.”

Yvette gave him a small smile. “I’m rooting for you. After all, whose coffee would I steal if you weren’t around?”

Rhys rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. He pushed back his chair and stood. “I don’t suppose I’m getting that coffee back, then?”

“Not a chance.”

oOo

Jack checked his clock for what felt like the thousandth time. Rhys was a whole thirty minutes late. On any other day, Jack would have been furious, but today he felt more like a flock of rakks was slamming around in his stomach. He’d never actually admit it, but he was... a little bit afraid of having scared Rhys off. The man had kissed him back, sure, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything; it might have just been the heat of the moment.

Jack was just about to start tugging at his hair when he heard the pneumatic swish of the door opening. He looked over, his heart leaping when he saw Rhys standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee and a nervous smile.

“Thought you might not be coming,” Jack said with a raised eyebrow, glad that his mask hid the heat beginning to creep onto his cheeks. 

Rhys shrugged, stepping inside and letting the door close behind him. “Sorry… Just ran into a friend.”

Jack squashed down a surge of jealousy at the words. Was this the same “friend” that had sucked hickeys into Rhys’s neck a few weeks back? “Well then, that coffee better be for me, pumpkin. You kept me waiting and I don’t take kindly to being denied my caffeine fix.”

The PA chuckled and stepped over, his face growing a little pink as he handed over the paper cup. When Jack took it, their fingers brushed. The older man was so tempted to just let his fingers linger against Rhys’s, but after a few seconds, he pulled away and took a sip. He wrinkled his nose in contemplation. “Hmm… Okay, this one isn’t bad. Toffee and… Shit, something fruity?”

“Cranberry,” Rhys shrugged, “I think it’s a limited edition flavor.”

Jack nodded, taking another sip as he tried to think of what to say. He had to do a good deal of small talk when he schmoozed over board members, but that didn’t mean he didn’t hate every second of it. But maybe he should he just comes out and say… What? _Hey Rhys, my dick is limited edition, so you might as well try it._ Oh god, no. Even for him, that was a bad pick up line.

“So are we going to talk about the kiss?” Rhys asked, moving over to sit down on the edge of his own desk with a nonchalant expression.

Jack choked on his coffee.

After he was done sputtering and coughing liquid out of his lungs, he shot Rhys a glare. The younger man covering his mouth with one hand, but his grin was obvious by the way his eyes crinkled up in amusement. Jack rolled his eyes. “Jesus, kiddo, warn a guy, would you?”

“And miss the chance to laugh at my hardass boss?” Rhys teased, “No way.”

Jack rolled his eyes, leaning back against the front of his desk and shaking his head. “Honestly, I should just throw you out the airlock. Disrespectful little shit.” He paused, considering his next statement. Fuck it. “You’re lucky you have such a nice ass to make up for the attitude.”

Rhys blushed crimson all the way up to his ears. “I- Oh.”

Jack took that as his cue to step forward toward his PA’s desk, practically prowling over there with a confidence he didn’t quite feel. “Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed, sweetheart. You don’t wear tight pants because you’re insecure.”

Rhys opened his mouth and then closed it again, clearly speechless. He shifted a little, licking his lips nervously as Jack got closure, getting right up into the younger man’s space. He put his hands on the desk behind Rhys, leaning forward so that their was an inch or so of space between their chests.

“I don’t uh… Flaunt it,” the PA murmured, “I just like the way these pants fit.” He looked like he was barely paying attention to the words coming out of his own mouth; he was too busy staring at Jack’s.

“Mm, so do I,” Jack grinned. Honestly, this wasn’t too different than flirting with a girl. If he moved the right way, spoke with the right timbre, he was pretty sure he could reel Rhys in with ease. The younger man was definitely already hooked.

Jack leaned in slowly, making it clear what he was about to do. Rhys made a soft noise and closed his eyes, tilting his mouth up to meet Jack’s. The kiss started slow - a simple press of lips - but Jack quickly made it deeper, slipping his tongue in to explore Rhys’s mouth. Once again, it was almost the same as doing this with a woman. Rhys’s lips were plush and his cheeks smoothly shaven. The only thing that made it particularly different was the masculine, slightly woodsy scent of the other man’s cologne.

Jack… Actually really liked that smell. He kissed Rhys harder, breathing it in. Fuck… He kind of want to chase that smell, stick his nose below the younger man’s jaw and suck hickeys into his skin while he just breathed. For now, though, he stuck to kissing Rhys senseless. He bit the PA’s lower lip and earned himself a moan that simultaneously made Jack want more and scared him shitless because he wasn’t exactly sure what more would entail. He pulled back, licking the synthetic skin of his mask’s lips.

“Jesus, I can’t believe I thought you were straight,” Rhys chuckled breathlessly, “You, uh… Damn.”

Jack froze, standing stock still as if not moving would make the weird shame twisting in his gut go away.

Rhys frowned. “I… Jack? Did I say something wrong?”

The CEO forced out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, see, thing is, kiddo, I… Might have thought that too.”

The younger man gave him a confused look. “Well… I think most people do at some point? It’s still kind of the ‘norm’ to assume. ‘Straight until proven queer’ or something. I didn’t realize I was gay until the end of high school.”

Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose, decidedly not looking at Rhys. “No, I meant I thought I was straight until a couple weeks ago.”

He snuck a glance at Rhys and found him slack jawed in shock.

“Oh,” the PA managed to get out after a few seconds, “Can I ask what… Changed your mind?”

“You,” Jack said, staring at a particularly interesting spot on the wall above Rhys’s head. Thank god for his mask; his face was burning with embarrassment. “You came in one day with friggin’ hickeys all over and I… I wanted to bend you over my desk.” He shook his head at the memory. “Couldn’t get the idea of someone else holding you down and putting them there out of my head…”

“You were jealous?” Rhys sounded almost awed by the concept and Jack couldn’t help looking at the other man again. Rhys’s face was pink and he was smiling.

“Handsome Jack doesn’t do _jealous,_ cupcake,” the CEO scoffed, his heart sinking when Rhys’s face fell. Jesus, okay. False bravado wasn’t going to work here, was it? “But… If I did, then yeah. That’s about what I’d have been feeling,” he admitted, stepping close once again and cupping Rhys’s face in one hand.  

“I’ve… Never felt this way about a man before, okay? It’s a little fucking nerve-wracking.” His words came out softer than he meant them to.

Rhys bit his lower lip, one cautiously moving to stroke the back of Jack’s neck before tangling in his hair. “Okay. That’s… It’s surprising, but it’s okay.” He gave the older man a shy smile. “Can I kiss you again?”

Instead of answering, Jack just brought their mouths together. He meant to keep it gentle to match the mood of their conversation, but Rhys moaned softly as soon as their tongues touched and that was it. Jack couldn’t resist pressing their bodies together, kissing the younger man fiercely. Rhys answered in kind, biting Jack’s lower lip and pulling him closer.

They made out, filthy and wet, and soon Jack felt himself getting hard. He rolled his hips a little and was momentarily surprised to find an answering hardness pressed against his thigh. It seemed like Rhys was enjoying this just as much as he was.

Jack pulled away, panting. His PA chased his lips for a moment, only slumping back when Jack chuckled. “A little eager there, aren’t you, kitten?”

“Do you blame me?” Rhys asked, looking up at the older man through his lashes, “Kissing you and knowing that I’m probably the first man who’s ever done that is kind of like heroin.”

Jack groaned, a little aroused by the idea himself. He grabbed Rhys’s shoulders, pulling the man close so that he could bite down on his neck and suck a bruise below his jawbone. “Shit, Rhysie,” he murmured, pulling back just long enough to breathe the words against the other man’s skin, before he started in on another spot.

Rhys let out a groan. “Nn… Jack. I - fuck - I don’t want to push you, do anything you aren’t ready for, but…”

“Spit it out, pumpkin.” Jack nipped at the place where Rhys’s neck met his shoulder for emphasis.

“Can I blow you?”

Jack wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. The idea of Rhys kneeling before him, Jack’s dick in his mouth, startled the older man into letting out a broken moan. “Fuck… Yeah. Yeah, do that.”

Rhys chuckled breathlessly, catching Jack’s mouth in one more quick kiss before he dropped to his knees. He made quick work of Jack’s belt, tossing it aside carelessly. There was a clang and Jack briefly hoped that nothing important had broken, before Rhys nuzzled the bulge in his pants and all thought vanished from his head.

“Jesus,” the older man moaned, arching his hips into the contact. He wondered if he could come in his pants just by rutting against Rhys’s cheek. Probably, but his PA had other plans. Rhys pulled back and unbuttoned Jack’s jeans, shoving them down around his thighs and leaning in to mouth at the wet spot on Jack’s underwear.

After a moment, he pulled back. “So, that answers that question.”

“What?” Jack panted, looking down at Rhys in confusion.

“Boxers or briefs,” the younger man grinned, “Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised that you made things complicated and went for boxer briefs.”

“Next time I’ll go commando if it gets you moving faster,” Jack said with a roll of his eyes. The comment earned him an aroused whimper and Rhys’s mouth back at his dick, saturating the cloth covering it with saliva. Jesus, it was heavenly… But he wanted more.

“Fuck - come on, cupcake. I don’t have all day.” Jack tangled his fingers in Rhys’s hair, but didn’t force him closer - he wasn’t a complete asshole, after all.

Rhys pulled back, his mouth slick with spit and his pupils wide with arousal. “Pull my hair.” Jack gave it a tug and Rhys moaned, pushing down Jack’s underwear. The older man’s cock sprang free, curving up toward his stomach. His foreskin was entirely retracted, revealing his flushed, leaking tip.

“You’re uncut,” Rhys murmured, biting his lower lip and running a finger over the loose skin. Jack moaned at the feeling, gripping his PA’s hair harder.

“Yeah, I am. Do you want a medal for observational skills or something?”

Rhys laughed, the sound husky with want. “No, I’m good. I’ll take a medal in cocksucking, though.”

“All talk, no action,” Jack grinned, raising an eyebrow at Rhys, “I don’t give out medals unless people earn them, pumpkin.”

The younger man’s lips quirked up in a smirk and then he took the head of Jack’s cock into his mouth. There was barely any tease, just sudden warmth and wetness. Rhys’s tongue flicked over the head of Jack’s dick, tasting the precome there, before he took him deeper, bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm.

Jack resisted the urge to thrust, pulling on Rhys’s hair a little every time the urge hit particularly hard. The younger man didn’t seem to mind; in fact, every little tug made him moan. The vibrations around Jack’s cock were utterly heavenly and when Rhys took him all the way down, the older man almost came right there.

“Oh, fuck - Ah. Kitten, if you don’t slow down, I’m gonna come down your throat.”

Rhys pulled off for a moment. “I’d suggest you come on my face, but that’s a bit messy for office sex.” His voice was utterly wrecked and Jack let out a low moan.

“Next time, then.”

Rhys’s lips quirked up in a grin and he licked a stripe up Jack’s cock, before swallowing the man down once more.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make the experience last, but after a moment he couldn’t resist looking down to see his cock sliding between Rhys’s lips. Jesus, that was absolutely filthy… Then he noticed that the younger man was palming himself, rutting against his hand as he sucked Jack off. That was the last straw, and the CEO came with a groan so loud it was practically a shout.

Rhys swallowed it all, not seeming to mind a bit. In fact, when he pulled off, he licked a stray speck of come from the corner of his mouth rather than wiping it away with his sleeve. If Jack had been a younger man, the sight of Rhys’s blown pupils and pink tongue might have been enough to get him half hard again.

“Damn, kiddo,” Jack murmured, letting go of his grip on the younger man’s hair. Rhys whimpered a little and Jack realized his PA was still hard. Shit. Was he supposed to… Return the favor? He wasn’t sure how hard it was to suck a dick, but after that stellar blowjob, he didn’t want to disappoint.

“It’s okay,” Rhys said, a little breathless, “You don’t have to do anything.” Jack wondered if the kid was some sort of mind reader. “I’m - I’m almost there anyways. Just… Talk to me?”

“Yeah, sure. You want me to talk dirty?”

“Please.”

For a moment, Jack wasn’t sure exactly what to say - which was a first. He had a filthy mouth at all times, but something about the situation made his tongue feel like lead. Well… He’d start of with praise. Rhys seemed like the kind of guy who’d like that.

“You look so goddamn good on your knees for me, cupcake,” he purred. It was true, too; Handsome Jack didn’t give out false praise. “The stuff out of fantasies.”

Rhys moaned, his hips jerking into his hand as he rubbed himself through his striped dress pants. “Your fantasies?”

“Maybe a couple of them,” Jack admitted, “Your mouth is too damn pretty to resist, what can I say? And your ass… Well, I already told you. It looks friggin’ edible in those pants. I want my hands on it. I want to grab it while you ride me.”

Rhys whimpered, his hips stuttering. Jack could tell he was coming; his entire body tensing and then going lax with pleasure. The younger man rested his head against Jack’s thigh, laughing breathlessly. “I can’t believe I just came in my pants like a teenager…”

“Don’t worry, it was pretty sexy,” Jack shrugged, petting the man’s hair. He didn’t feel too guilty about messing it up further, given that the gelled look Rhys went for was already totally ruined.

“Good,” his PA chuckled, climbing awkwardly to his feet. He pecked Jack on the mouth. “Either way, though, I’ve got to clean up.” Jack felt his expression go blank and Rhys gave him a soft smile. “I’m not running out on you, I swear. I just don’t want dried jizz in my underwear all day.”

Jack nodded, moving over to his desk and sinking down into his seat as Rhys moved toward the bathroom. He should be the one that felt like running, but he was… Surprisingly calm. Maybe it had something to do with the fantastic orgasm or the way Rhys was taking all of this in a stride. His computer beeped at him after a moment and Jack glared at the screen, which was showing him an alert for a conference call with the director of Eridium mining on Pandora in five minutes. Fuck… Rhys had rescheduled that one like four times, hadn’t he?

With a sigh, Jack got up from his luxurious chair and moved to go to the conference room. Whatever stupid, emotion-laden talk he and Rhys were going to have about what all this meant was going to have to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm usually not the best at finishing things, but I swear I will try my hardest this time, because I am so pumped for this fic.
> 
> Comments fuel me, so please leave one if you have anything to say at all.
> 
> My tumblr is squittenace if you're interested in checking out my many-fandom blog!
> 
> ❤


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